PUBLIC LIVES

PUBLIC LIVES; Diallo's Father Speaks Through His Grief

By JOYCE WADLER

Published: December 29, 1999

THE father, thick and middle-aged, his English heavily accented, tends to be the forgotten man. It is his former wife, Kadiadou Diallo, beautiful, well-spoken, 14 years his junior, who is the media star and spokeswoman.

Still, when the decision came earlier this month that the murder trial of the four police officers who fired 41 bullets at Saikou Amad Diallo's unarmed son, Amadou Diallo, would be moved to Albany, the reporters found Mr. Diallo, a 54-year-old Guinean businessman, quickly enough, at the apartment where he is living in Queens.

He had been fasting in observance of Ramadan and could not speak for long when he picked up the phone -- he was in the midst of prayers. Later, he spoke of being sad and shocked.

''I hope the decision will be reversed and the trial will be moved to the neighborhood in the Bronx where my son was killed,'' he said again last week.

And, with a tinge of personal hurt:

''It is not right that the attorney of the father has not even been notified. I feel very disappointed.''

Amadou Diallo, 22 at the time of his death, has become a cause. In the spotlight that often compels family members to become activists are his parents. Divorced for nearly 10 years, living on separate continents, they battled for control of their son's estate, which, in the wake of a successful civil suit, could be worth millions. Kadiadou Diallo, in a petition in Bronx Surrogate's Court, argued that her former husband had ''effectively abandoned his son'' and provided ''very little financial assistance.'' Last month, the two agreed to administer the estate jointly.

Speaking in the Madison Avenue offices of his lawyer, Omar Mohammedi, with Mr. Mohammedi intervening often, Mr. Diallo, who speaks English haltingly, declined to speak about his former wife's charges.

That being the case, it was difficult to establish what sort of relationship Mr. Diallo had with his son, although it was clear that Mr. Diallo was often separated from his family as he pursued his business interests. That career, which has included gem and gold trading, as well as his current plastics subcontracting company in Vietnam, enabled him to own five homes in Africa. He began, as a man younger than Amadou, as a street peddler in Senegal.

''He was following in my footsteps; nothing wrong with that,'' Mr. Diallo says. ''I was selling in a dangerous neighborhood. I have never been killed.''

Saikou Amad Diallo was born in the village of Honlade Bourou in Guinea. His father, an observant Muslim who had four wives, helped run the village school where Mr. Diallo was educated.

''I had over 50 brothers and sisters from my father,'' he says. ''From my mother, there are nine children; I am the only one alive. All died from natural causes, no accidents.''

AT 16, Mr. Diallo goes to Senegal with two brothers to make their way in the world. Their combined stake is $5, with which they buy candy and cigarettes to peddle in the streets. By age 30, Mr. Diallo is a rich man. Living in Liberia with his wife, Aissata, whom he met in an an arranged match, Mr. Diallo has 7 shops, 3 gas stations, a sawmill with 50 employees and, he says, the only pharmacy in the country. At this age, Mr. Diallo takes his second wife, Kadiadou, a cousin, who is 14.

Why a second wife?

''My first wife never went to school,'' Mr. Diallo says. ''She was born in the village. I needed someone with a little education who can help me to write letters, answer the telephone. . . .'' Interruption from the lawyer, concerned. Mr. Diallo is not saying he married just for help with his business, he says.

How did they meet? ''I wanted her elder sister,'' Mr. Diallo says forthrightly, ''but it took two, three months to get back to Guinea, and the older sister was already married. So the family suggested this girl'' -- a smile, the satisfaction of knowing a phrase in an unfamiliar language -- ''sort of like a replacement.''

''Not a replacement,'' the lawyer says.

When Amadou Diallo is 9, in 1985, his father moves alone to Bangkok to set up a jewelry business. Amadou's mother joins him there briefly to take a six-month course in gemstones. In Africa, Mr. Diallo's first wife looks after all the children. (Eventually, there would be eight.)

In 1986, Mr. Diallo takes his third wife, a Thai woman, and sets up another business in Singapore. Kadiadou Diallo often works with him. They divorce in 1990, when Amadou is 13. Five years later, Amadou lives with his father for a year in Singapore while studying computers.

Mr. Diallo's recollections about his son seem sparer than those of his business, but this may be because of the lawyer's constraints: very calm, very quiet, never wanted to provoke anybody. Spoke with a stutter, which his father tried unsuccessfully to have cured by sending Amadou to a hospital in Singapore. Returned to Africa, Amadou called his father for permission to go to New York.

Why would a young man from a successful family have to sell in the street? ''Maybe American people don't understand it, but in an African family, when a boy is above 20 years of age, he is ashamed to open his hand to his father,'' Mr. Diallo says. ''At that age, they want to take care of the parents. ''

His life now? ''I feel like a part of my body is missing,'' Mr. Diallo says. ''This cannot change. The only thing I can do is to pray for my son and to pursue justice.''

Photo: Saikou Amad Diallo says his son was following in his footsteps. (Ozier Muhammad/The New York Times)